will you swing with me from the chandelier?
by The Cinder Crown
Summary: The young woman shakes her head. When did she start to yearn for the dark? For a time, when the sun is finally falling; when she can open a bottle of wine without being judged? :: or: how to deal with a broken heart...


**will you swing with me from the chandelier?**

* * *

The brunette gives a sigh. She sets down the almost empty wine glass on the little night stand next to her. '_Great. Another empty bottle,' _she thinks and leans back in the old wooden armchair – staring into the fireplace in front of her, with empty hazel eyes.

For a moment, the young woman ponders about what to do next… she considers her options – not really carefully, but she does it anyway… and, at least in her opinion, the mere thought of it counts.

Anyway, there is not much to think about… a couple of seconds later, she crosses the room and reaches out for yet another bottle of wine that laid in her shopping bag. Another moment later and her previously empty glass has once again re-filled itself.

With a mixture of delight and fear at the same time, the 21-year-old reaches out and once her elegant long fingers tangle around the cold fabric of the glass, she closes her eyes, lifts it and enjoys the feeling of the red liquid flowing down her throat.

The brunette sighs once more, turns her head ever-so-slightly and glances towards the high shelf next to her… once upon a time she had used it to store things like folders or drafts from the sketches she had once drawn… nowadays, however, she forces her eyes to shut close before she can get a closer look at the many empty bottles of wine she has set upon it.

'_I should have thrown them away in the first place'_ she thinks bitterly and takes another sip. Deep down, she knows why she had kept the empty bottles – and placed them neatly on the top of her shelf… one neatly placed next to another… in perfect order. The first bottle she had opened was resting right next to the one she had emptied just a couple of minutes ago.

It is a reminder. A dark, frightening reminder to keep track of how much alcohol she has consumed. Well, at least that was the original though… during a time she had laughed and shaken her head about how she had never thought to be able to empty a whole bottle of wine herself… needless to say, that all had changed during a boring and well, lonely evening.

Now, there is what can be called a whole collection of bottles – in different shapes, colours and taste – resting a couple of meters way from the brunette… but still in sight to – occasionally – remind her of how her life had turned out to be.

A dry, almost inaudible cackle escapes her.

What is the point of living, anyways?

It is a questing she has asked herself many times – and probably a couple of times too often. She has a loving family… which is truly something not to be taken for granted these days…

And friends… not too many, but the brunette knew that – if something ever happened – she could always rely on them. They are, after all, people she has known for years and loved – loves - dearly. After all, it's not about how many friends one has, but how many times one can rely on them. And in her case, the 21-year-old knows that she probably has the best of friends one could ever ask for.

A spark in the fireplace lights up the remaining wood, and the brunette takes that chance to reach for her once more filled glass of wine.

She has no idea what it tastes like anymore – sure, the faint note of alcohol is always there, but apart from that, it doesn't taste any different from the water she always drinks during the daylight.

The young woman shakes her head. When did she start to yearn for the dark? The time when the sun is finally falling; when she can open a bottle of wine without being judged? It was dark, after all…

She takes a deep breath and looks down on herself. The dress she wears – wonderful, formfitting, and with expensive white silk and embroidery at the edges… it suits her slim figure perfectly. And no, she has no intention of leaving the house for tonight – or any other evening, that is. But she likes dressing up: Her dark brown hair is falling down her bare back and the heels she wears are stretching her legs to make them look like they are as long as the one's of the girls that had made fun of her back in school…  
Well… thoughts, hopes, and unrealistic dreams like that have been a major part of her newly accustomed habit of getting a bit tipsy every now and then, and to dress up in her favourite dress and imagine how she'd dance with the boy she had left so many month ago – for, what she thinks now, no reason at all.

Sure, it was her first _real_ relationship – not counting the one or other sinful event she'd rather not talk about. She had agreed to dating one of her best friends – admittedly, after a bit of encouragement from her bestie, but still, she got over herself and allowed someone to get close to her. Or at least she had tried to.

It wasn't easy. The brunette, as happy, free, wild and cheery she might have appeared to be on the outside, the young woman was nothing of the sort. Sure, she tries to keep her guards up, pretends to be just like everyone thought she was, but deep down, she just wishes to have someone to show her true self to. For once in her life, she wants someone to understand her. To understand how vulnerable she really is on the inside… how close to breaking… that she still cannot cope with losing people she holds dear…that she still isn't over the death of her beloved grandmother Victoria… that she'd probably never be able to get over it… that the memory of such a kind soul suffering so much will never leave her completely. And that, ever since that fateful day, she has trouble to let people get close to her and her heart. The brunette, as fierce as she appeared to be on the outside, is simply vulnerable – more than any of her friends could ever imagine. More than she would let anyone ever know. More than she admits herself to be.

Sure, once a guard such as hers has been built up, it is hard for everyone else to break through it.

So back then, when her boyfriend assumingly (she still doesn't know whether he did it on purpose or not) took her, for what it seemed like, for granted - and preferred to go out with his own friends instead of spending time with her – she decided to take matters into her own hands and break it off. Everything they had. She destroyed it – two days before his birthday – just randomly. And without wasting a single thought about how it might had affected him. Back then, she was completely oblivious to that.

To her defence… she had tried to include things in her break-up speech… things that – in her opinion – left him enough room to argue. To defend their relationship, to offer her a reason to overthink her decision once again… to give her hope that they could work together. Well, he didn't. He didn't argue. He didn't fight. At least that was what it seemed like at the time.

And that was the beginning of the end. Their little group of friends – who, on a weekly basis, used to end up meeting on one of their sofas – hardly interacted anymore, and the feeling that it was all her fault still doesn't quite leave her.

Neither does the devastating though of _'what if'_. _'What if I had given us another chance? What if I had not given up hope so early? What if I had just trusted him? Trusted in the love he had for me? Held on to the hope that there was still someone left to love me?'_

These are the kind of thoughts that keep haunting her – especially after the one or other glass of wine. But by now – having gotten used to the regular consume of the red liquid – she manages to keep these thoughts under control astonishingly well… at least most of the time.

But she knows, no matter how much she wishes for a second chance, there is no hope. She has lost her shot… and the thought of never finding someone who loves her… it just frightens her immensely.

And this is where the wine comes into play. It calms her. It calms her nerves, thoughts and everything nasty that comes along with it. Feelings, for example. Feelings are the worst.

The never-ending, eternal debate she keeps fighting with her own self will sooner or later destroy her, she knows that much. But it is like swinging from a chandelier… either one opens herself for love and the chance of losing that person one day… or one just draws away from everyone and lives a life of her own… lonely, but at least there is no loved one that could be lost one day. It will work.. at least until the weight of all her burdens start crashing down upon her.

But once again, it's like swinging from a crystal chandelier… as beautiful as it looks from a certain distance… adorned with all the glittering diamonds… you either look at it from a distance, or it will, one day, crash down upon you – without mercy.

So you either jump, overcome your fear and just reach for an almost impossible chance and swing along, or the weight you carry along will cause the whole construction to end up crashing down upon you…and burying the last flame of hope with it.

The young woman glances at the wine glass in her hand… then turns her head, towards the ceiling, and glances at the chandelier above her… Beautiful, graceful, lonely… and wonders whether she would get the chance to swing along with the all the diamonds or get her life crashed, just like the dreams she doesn't dare to dream of.


End file.
